


i am white, already gleaming. i fade ever so soon

by shannyan



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Cannibalism, Eye Trauma, Force-Feeding, M/M, Mild Gore, Self-Harm, a lil mindfuck, lol this isn’t as intense as it sounds but what do u expect from a series like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18753070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannyan/pseuds/shannyan
Summary: arima hollowed out kaneki ken. now he’s filling in sasaki haise. all so he can return the favor





	i am white, already gleaming. i fade ever so soon

**Author's Note:**

> i hate writing but i just finished reading re and there’s a criminal lack of arisasa on this site.. tho the shipping in this fic isn’t super big sowwy

“S-Special Agent Arima!”

“Hello. I’ve come to inquire on number 240’s condition.”

“Ah, uh— there hasn’t.. been much change..”

“Why?”

“He’s been.. rejecting food.. I’m sorry, has his priority level changed? We weren’t under the impression that his healing was vital..” 

“No.” 

Their voices did nothing to stir Kaneki, who lacked the energy to even call out, too delirious from hunger to process their words. It was only when he heard the door crank open that he sluggishly threw his body to the side, retreating into the corner of the bed. “Special Agent— you mustn’t—“

“It’s fine.” The voice was inside now, steadily growing closer. Kaneki curled up, reaching under his bandages to nervously scratch his eye. They were going to force him again.. but he can’t.. he can’t…

“Hello 240. I heard you haven’t been eating.” 

No response. Arima approached his bed despite how he retreated further into himself. It was solid metal with no sheets, caked with dry blood. If he took the time to look he’s find bloody splatters and handprints all over the walls and floor. Trying to claw out like a caged animal. 

He kneeled down next to him and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from under the bandages. 

“Nn.. noo..” He writhed to the best of his ability, wrist weakly flailing in his grasp. Arima had never seen a ghoul so weak, malnourished. “..Noo—“ Arima took the opportunity to stuff a small cube of meat into his mouth, using his grip on his wrist to keep him in place. Kaneki instantly spit it out, hysteria rising. “I-I can’t!! I don’t— noo..” His bandages began to dampen with blood and fluids, dripping down his face. 

“Did you not eat human meat before?” he asked patiently, unaffected by the violent reaction. 

“Nooo.. no..” His voice was hoarse from overuse, cries mangled in his throat and drowned out with the blood and spit in his mouth. 

Arima dragged him closer, ignoring his sobbing. His free hand reached to touch Kaneki’s cheek, stilling him. He stopped for a moment, confused, head tilting up as if he could see. Arima could see his mouth watering, his fingers twitching toward him. Were it not for the RC suppressants, his kagune would probably be out. He was indeed hungry, but he was adamant about not eating humans. Interesting, considering they had evidence of him eating humans the very night he was intercepted. 

His hand slid up, thumb gently touching the empty hole where his eye would be. Kaneki flinched and shivered, body remembering him. “Do you know who I am?”

It took a moment before he slowly shook his head. He had seen him just last week, but it seemed his hunger and unstable condition was affecting his memories. In the short time he had already forgotten his mission. 

His touch was bordering tender, and it was enough to calm Kaneki, for him to allow him to touch him. His guard was down enough that he didn’t see it coming when the hand suddenly left his cheek to pinch his nose closed. He gasped for air and then that meat chunk was back, pushed deep down his throat and then the hand clamped down on his mouth to prevent him from coughing it up. His free hand desperately clawed at Arima’s arm, he blindly tried shaking his grip off, but it was no use, and his frantic floundering only quickened his loss of oxygen. He sobbed into his hand, tugging and tugging until his strength diminished and he was merely clinging onto him, pleading. Drool seeped through Arima’s fingers and dripped down Kaneki’s chin. His crying was reduced to a final whine, then silence. His body slumped back and his hands fell from Arima’s arms. 

Arima released him, deeming it done... only to find the soggy cube of meat trickle down his lips. He stared for a moment, in genuine shock. He would rather pass out from lack of air, possibly die, than consume human meat? 

Arima wiped his face clean before swiftly letting go and leaving him there, out the door before Kaneki could regain consciousness. 

Kaneki awoke soon after with the scent of something foul nearby. His face wrinkled in disgust and he turned away from the offending stench, only distantly aware that someone was there. 

“Welcome back, number 240. I’ve brought you something else to eat.” Arima grabbed his shoulder and turned him back to face him, meeting little resistance due to the latter’s exhaustion. This time he just held the meat to his mouth, letting him decide if he would eat it. Kaneki’s upper lip twitched in disgust, but after a moment's hesitation, he bent his head down and slowly ate from his hand. Almost like feeding a stray animal. 

Arima fed him piece by piece, watching him intently. An odd one indeed. Maybe he.. would be enough..

Kaneki was noticeably in better condition immediately after eating. Arima could hear a very faint sizzle from beneath his bandages. As he ate, he had leaned further into Arima, and by the time he finished, he was practically being cradled. Kaneki used his newfound energy to prop himself against the wall, breathing heavily. 

“I’ll arrange for them to feed you that from now on.” Arima rose, and Kaneki faced him wearily. “I expect you to be in better condition next time I arrive.” And then he was gone.

—-

From Arima’s knowledge on ghouls, Kaneki should be in a stable condition in the matter of two days, even if on RC suppressants. The guards had eavesdropped during his last visit and so they expected his next visit, but his timing caught them off guard. “”Good morning special class! Before you enter I,— you should know, number 240 still hasn’t healed. With restraints, we can expect him to—“

“I see.” He pushed past them and entered. 

Number 240 was on the floor this time, his head tucked into his knees, his wrists bound and shackled to a belt. His reach only barely allowed him to hug his knees to his chest. He still looked to be in poor physical condition, which Arima expected. Ghouls couldn’t properly sustain themselves through cannibalism, as the CCG had tested before. Right now his priority was his eyesight. 

“Good morning, number 240. May I ask why you need to be restrained?”

Kaneki gave no indication that he heard him until Arima stepped closer and he stiffened. “I’ve also been told that you haven’t healed yet.” He crouched down to his level and guided his head up by his chin. He put his other hand on his shoulder to still him when he tried to yank away from him. Were Arima not accustomed to death and gore, he would have been disgusted by the dry blood and flesh stained bandages that only loosely covered Kaneki’s eyes. From beneath he could see peeks of gouged skin and rotten bits of flesh. 

How odd, to look at the product of his work. He always fought so instantaneously and efficiently that he never had to think about it afterwards. 

“Do they not regularly change your bandages?”

“We do!” A voice called out from behind the door. “It’s just that he..” Arima looked over his shoulder, glowering, and then he soon heard the scared shuffling of feet as they were left to their own privacy. 

Arima turned back to Kaneki and began to pull off the bandages. Only then was he responsive, quickly reaching for his hand with both of his. “D-Don’t…”

“240”. Arima began with sudden sternness. “Why don’t you allow yourself to heal?”

His lip quivered and he tried turning his face away. “Hurts..”

“You stop the pain with more pain?” 

“... Inside.. need it.. out..”

Arima took a moment to take in his miserable state. Were he fully human, would he feel guilt? His actions now might be seen as those of a guilty man’s, but he lacked the kindness for that form of repenting. He didn’t think himself capable. 

“Are you not bored in here? Had you your eyesight back, we could provide you some forms of entertainment.” A ghoul’s boredom wasn’t considered in Cochlea, but 240 was Arima’s case.

“L..Like.. books?”

“You enjoy reading?”

“I..might have… I don’t know…”

“I’ll bring you books then. Have your eyes healed by then so you can read them.”

Kaneki frowned, reaching up for a moment before the chain prevented him from getting to his eyes. “...Alright..” 

Arima wordlessly let him go, and he resumed his former position, although his body was looser now. 

“I’ll ask you again. Do you know who I am?”

Kaneki’s head lolled to the side. “You… fed me..”

“What are your earliest memories?” 

“...Save..” He bit his lip hard, his hands balling into fists. “Save.. them..? They.. were they saved?”

“Who?”

He frowned helplessly and tightly gripped his knees, winding tighter and tighter. “Them.. my..” He turned his head up at him, desperate for an answer. His franticness grew with Arima’s silence. “..?? Please..”

“I answered this once, but you chose to forget. I can only take that as proof that you don’t want to know.”

“No! No, no no no—“ He dug his nails into his skin, which was finally enough to move Arima, down at his side at an instant to pull his hands free. “No, no, please— I need to.. I need… ???” He put all his strength into trying to wrangle free, tugging at the chain and Arima’s grip, refusing the futility. 

His thrashing caused the already loose bandages to completely fall from his eyes, and he looked up at Arima with haunting black holes. “Who am I??”

Arima looked down at him, unmoved. “Number 240.”

“No, that’s— I mean— my name. What’s my name?”

Arima’s thumb brushed against his browbone, just barely curling into the mess of half healed goop that leaked from his eye socket. “I’ll give you your options now. You can either remember, and spend the rest of your days rotting here in regret, clawing your eyes out and rejecting food until you’re deemed unneeded and disposed of. Or you’ll forget, assume a new identity, leave this place, and live a better life.” 

He peered into those black voids, as if he could form some sort of eye contact if he looked hard enough. “There’s no value in sinking into your own guilt.”

Kaneki’s lips opened and closed, his shoulders shaking. A muffled sob broke past him. He hung his head. Nodded once, weakly. Arima didn’t move. He nodded again, and again, falling back against the wall, straining against the shackles. Nodded again and again. 

“..I…’m.. tired..” He must’ve bit his cheek; blood was slurring his speech, dripping down his chin. 

It was then that Arima decided Kaneki would be suitable. He was going to kill him, fully and completely, erase him from this world. So that when he came back, he would be stronger than ever. “I understand.” 

—-

 

Arima didn’t even have to speak to be let in the next time. But he should have, because he was hit by a surprising wave of disappointment when he came in to find Kaneki’s eyes still wrapped. “Hello, 240.”

He was at least in better condition today, sitting in the middle of his bed ready and expecting him. “Hello..”

He approached him and set down a large bag beside him. “I’ve brought you some essentials. I’ll set everything up before leaving.”

“Ah..” He gave a quick gracious nod. “..did you bring.. the books..?” 

“Yes, but it seems to be in vain.”

“No!” He hesitated, but loosened the bandages so that one of his eyes showed. It was barely healed, wet and puffy, gently leaking tears from all his blinking. Arima wondered if he should take it as a sign that it was his human eye he allowed to heal. 

The single eye squinted into a small slit at him, and Arima found himself holding his breath, unconsciously. His fingers twitched for his weapon. 

However, Kaneki seemed satisfied with his vague figure, and let his gaze drop down. “You’re.. as tall as I thought you’d be.” 

Arima said nothing and sat down beside him, a couple of books in his lap. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to read.”

“Me neither.” he admitted with a small smile. How surprisingly inconvenient, Arima noted, that Kaneki can now see whenever Arima openly stared at his face. He found that this wasn’t enough motivation for him to stop, especially this time. 

“These.. are books I’ve finished recently. They’re of varying difficulty levels.” 

“It’s fine if they’re hard. Something to think about..” His eye lingered on the books, longingly. 

“How are you treated here?” 

He averted his eye. “Fine… they don't really speak to me..”

It does Arima better for Kaneki to be mistreated, to be his only source of kindness, but there was still something bitter in knowing how cruelly he was treated. They would have him rot, were Arima not here. “They feed you properly?”

He cleared his throat and touched his chin. “A few hours before you arrived..”

“You must be able to tell what I brought for you.”

Kaneki swallowed and regarded the bag. “I don’t… eat that.”

“Your healing and development will be stunted if you exclusively consume ghoul meat.” He avoided stating it before, but it was necessary now. “The human meat we feed you is obtained naturally. They would be dead anyway.”

By the look on his face, he seemed to remember what ghouls were. “...But aren’t I…” He stopped with a frown. “It’s.. wrong..” 

“I wouldn’t assign a moral value to it. It’s necessary for your life. There’s no helping the dead.”

He pulled a small package from the bag and placed it in his hands. “..You used to eat human meat.”

Kaneki glanced at him cautiously, surprised to hear about his past. “...Really?”

“Yes, because your health demanded it. Our job mandated that we always be in perfect health.”

He readily soaked up any background he was given with little regard to the possibility that it may be false. Arima could mold him into anything. 

“Our job.. our job..?” 

“Yes, we worked together.”

Kaneki gaped at him. “What did we—“

“It’s too soon to speak about it. Not until after you heal.” he said dismissively, eliciting a frown from the boy. 

“I brought a book of poems. Would you like me to read you one?” Kaneki blinked at him with surprise and nodded quickly. 

Despite being the one offering, Arima paused for a moment before beginning. “It’s Hakushuu..” Yet another test. 

“He is man, his eyebrows shining, white beard falling upon his chest. Outside his home the grass tatami is laid out with a rustle, and in his ceremonial clothing, holding his blade, sharpening, sitting cross-legged, deep in thought, those eyes focus. He is man. The God of his land, descendant of wisdom and life. Perishing is the living corpse. The summer day, the white sun-beams.. He stares downward, stunned motionless…”

Kaneki was laying down now, but his single eye was trained on him attentively. He looked at him and recited this very poem after Arima had taken one of his eyes. That same night, he searched for it to read its ending. It was a poem meant for Kaneki, a way of readying his own blade, but the resemblance to Arima’s life was uncanny. 

“He, man, the aged eagle. He who is old and wrinkled, and tired of pain, of snow-white beard, of majestic ceremonial clothing. He sharpens his blade, cross-legged. Like carving a branch of yew, and his mind clouds. Thou who art laid out on the ground. All is good, and I pray. I grow old, and I lament. I am white, already gleaming. I fade ever so soon…”

It was this that made Arima hopeful that he could be understood. He gave Kaneki Ken a gift that he hoped could be returned. 

Kaneki looked across the room, thinking. “That’s beautiful…”

He cupped his face again, looking for his reaction. Kaneki tilted his head questioningly, but showed no adverse reaction. He closed his eye, and Arima was reminded of a cat. This affirmed his belief— Kaneki Ken was gone. In a way. 

He was still lonely and scared, like the boy he met in the sewers. But he lacked the tragedy, the resignation. This Kaneki looked at death with blind eyes and asked what would happen next. 

“Um.. do you.. can I have your name?” He almost smiled at the irony. 

“Arima.” he answered after a moment of hesitation. 

“Arima… “ He swallowed. “And I’m…?”

“You can choose a new name whenever you wish. I’ll call you whatever you’d like.”

“I’ll… think about it.”

—  
Though Arima’s eyes were slowly worsening, his hearing remained perfect. He could tell Furuta was here the moment he stepped into the halls 

Arima felt a rush of anger, so sudden and foreign that he stayed still, letting the feeling settle through him. He felt an odd tension in his body, a fuzzy heat in his head. 

He sat close to him on his bed, holding both of his hands in a sincere manner. “-and we’re all so impressed by your progress! After this will be quinque training.” He spoke sweetly but his face was completely expressionless; he had no need to fake it when Kaneki couldn’t see him. 

“Quinque?”

“You know, it’s—“

“Furuta.” He stepped in, and Furuta’s face instantly transformed into a sheepish smile. “Oh, Special Class! I was just checking up on our exper—“

“You haven’t received instruction to be here. I insist that you leave.”

He feigned surprise, and bowed apologetically. “Ah I had no idea! I just really wanted to meet Kane—“

Arima grabbed onto the front of his coat and yanked hard, silencing him. He giggled nervously. “Oh, oops! Sorry, totally forgot! Mum’s the word!” He snaked out of his grip, though it took a long second to release him. “Goodbye, number, uh.. well you know. Bye Arima!” He let his smile drop a second early before leaving completely. Obviously intentional. He made less of an effort to conceal his personality around Arima, since they grew up together. 

He struggled to think of the Washuu’s motive. He found that his previous anger remained, impeding his thinking. 

He wondered if what he was feeling was possessiveness. He was in front of Kaneki before he realized it, gripping his hands almost just as Furuta had done, but his touch lacked the gentleness. 

Kaneki flinched, fingers twitching in his grasp, tempted to pull away but weary of further invoking his wrath. Arima saw through his red in his vision and quickly released him, reminding himself that he was supposed to be working on trust building. “What did he say to you?”

Kaneki reached out, scared to be isolated. “..He gave.. condolences.” He weakly gripped the hem of Arima’s sleeve, head tilted up at him. 

Arima scowled minutely. Furuta often meddled with his father’s plans out of spite; he shouldn’t be surprised. “It’s too early to talk about your accident.”

Kaneki’s lips pursed as he prepared to ask something, but he bit his lip and let it go. His head dropped down. 

Arima pulled his bandages up to check his injuries. A single eye blinked at him. He kept his disappointment to himself. This wasn’t stunted healing, it was continued self harm. 

“...One of your teammates died. You were heavily injured and suffered memory loss.” he told him against his better judgement. 

“...Oh..” He nodded slowly. “Thank you, Arima..” He stared at him intently. Arima had forgotten, this was the first time 240 got to fully see his face. He simply looked back. 

“240. What would you do if you were allowed to leave here?”

“..Uh.. I don’t know..” Arima gave him a patient stare, indicating that wasn’t a fulfilling answer. “I would.. ask you for guidance.”

“Do you have an idea of what I do for a living?” Kaneki bit his lip. “..No.. I used to think you worked here.. but now I feel like.. this is different for you..”

Arima blinked. What in his behavior revealed that? Though he was correct. This is the first time he’s brought life. “I’m a ghoul investigator. You were a part of my squad.”

“I.. hunted ghouls..? But I’m…”

“You’re half human, half ghoul. You chose to lean in to your human side.” 

His brow crinkled. While there was no progress on his left eye, the right was completely healed. Arima will bring him an eyepatch next time. 

“If I returned, would I be back on your squad?” 

Arima touched his shoulder. “Your previous incident.. was very traumatic for you. I don’t wish to force you back into it.”

“But! But if I did.. we’d.. work together?” 

He was careful to keep his expression and voice neutral. “Yes.”

He fidgeted, fingertips digging into his palm. “I’d like that…”

As expected. He never had a choice. “You’re sure?”

Cruel. He really was cruel, wasn’t he. He’s been called that many times, but it was drowned out by equal praise. He didn’t think he was kind per se, but neither was he settled on cruel. He was more of a machine, simply carrying out its tasks. There was never necessity for moral assignment. 

He shouldn’t have taken this job. He should’ve stayed on the fields like the mindless soldier he was expected to be. 

But he chose this job. He has wanted it. He still wanted it. He visited 240 longer and more often than was required, and he thought about it often outside of the cell. 

Kaneki smiled warmly at him, abruptly pulling him from his thoughts. “Yes.”

Without thinking about it, Arima pulled him into a hug. He was still sickly skinny, body cold and stiff. He could feel the knobs of his spine when he clasped his hand onto his back to pull him in. He felt him gasp from where his head was tucked into his shoulder. Two frail hands tightly wound into the back of his coat as Kaneki tried to pull himself closer. 

They stayed like that for a moment, Arima’s mind still surprisingly blank. He pulled away when he felt the front of his shirt begin to dampen. The left side of Kaneki’s face was covered in fresh blood, soaking his bandages and dripping down his face. “S-Sorry..” He reluctantly took his hands back to cover his face. “When I cry, it.. opens my wound..”

Arima cupped his face with both hands, wiping the blood away with his thumbs. His hand stilled when his thumb brushed against his lips. Kaneki was still crying, blood trickling down, lips quivering. Arima dragged his lower lip down, watching them part. His breath was unexpectedly hot. 

He stared, his own breath caught in his throat. His job. Kaneki’s future job. One of them must kill the other. He can’t..

Kaneki’s tongue poked out to lick the blood clean from his skin and he could physically feel his resolve weaken. He couldn’t control his mind from conjuring a scenario where they were just normal people. Normal humans. He’d guide him back into society, work a normal job at a normal office where Arima too would work. Maybe an office job. They’d eat normal food and it would taste normal. Arima probably stopped being able to taste around the time Kaneki had become a ghoul and lost it too. Their hair would go white at a normal age. They’d lose their eyesight at a normal age. They’d die at a normal age from normal causes. 

“You and I.. are very similar.” He pulled away from him completely, standing straight. It’s no use.

“I look forward to working with you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> would love to give creds for the poem translation but op on tumblr deactivated boo :( thank u sm kind stranger... the poem’s a bit on the nose but so are all the other lit references (like crossbreed omggg)
> 
> gush over arisasa wit me...


End file.
